


Quiet Nights

by FreshFruitAndChocolate



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gendrya babies, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, based on the books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22095121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshFruitAndChocolate/pseuds/FreshFruitAndChocolate
Summary: They have good nights and bad nights...sadly this is one of the bad ones.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 13
Kudos: 129





	Quiet Nights

**Author's Note:**

> A Song of Ice and Fire aswell as Game of Thrones belong to George RR Martin.
> 
> This fic is based in the book universe and not the show

He had woken up for some reason, slow and sluggish. 

It was still the dead of night, he realized. He blinked twice to help adjust his vision in the darkness. Luckily the moon was perched by the bedroom window illuminating the bed and blankets. 

He reached his hand out, sweeping over the furs and bummed against something, someone. Opening his eyes more, finally able to see he looked over at the sleeping form of his son. Only two, still a babe with his tiny fist curled up and mouth slightly open. Next to his face was another hand resting on his side of the pillow. 

Lifting his head slightly Gendry peered over spotting the owner of that hand. 

His daughter curled up close to the small body of her little brother for warmth as once again, she had kicked the furs off in her sleep. She was snoring with locks of long black hair falling into her mouth. She was as wild as her mother even at rest.

As he gazed at his children he realized they hadn’t woken him. 

His senses fully waking, he realized what had. There had been a violent jerk and the russling sound of blankets before he woke, and someone was missing.

The feeling of eyes staring at him caught his attention.

Propping himself up on one arm he scanned the room. 

A figure standing in the corner of the room caught his eye.

Gendry inhaled sharply, heart thundering in his chest and blood flowing quickly.

Piercing grey eyes he knew all too well looked back at him behind dark brown hair.

Knowing who it was calmed him.

But only a little.

“Arya” he always tried to use her name first, hoping she would respond to it but that was rare.

She didn’t respond.

Gendry sat up slowly…very slowly.

This was going to be one of those nights.

His feet landed on the cold wooden floor causing a shiver to run up his legs. The cold crisp air of night touching his naked torso. As he stood, her eyes followed him.

He exhaled a calming sigh to himself and began very slowly walking in her direction.

This was the most dangerous part.

He kept his movements slow, one foot in front of the other keeping his eyes on her face for any reaction. He saw her head twitch slightly as he walked forward. 

He stopped.

He took the small break as a chance to examine her. 

She didn’t have anything in her hands, they lay loose at her sides. She was still wearing her night shirt. Oversized and covering her knees. Her feet were also clean so she hadn’t gone outside.

Most would tell him to leave her like this.

She’ll be out of it eventually, most likely by morning. 

But she will stand here in the cold, alone. Alone in her own head, and the thought fills his stomach with sick. 

He inhaled deeply and tried for her name once more.

“Arya”

Still nothing.

Shit.

As he took a step forward again he landed on a loose board causing a loud creak.

At the sound her head shot up and her eyes were now alert.

Gendry had nearly fallen on his ass but managed to only back up a few steps. He raised his arms in front of him in surrender.

“Easy! Easy it’s just me!” he whispered.

Her eyes were still locked on to him but they weren’t twitching as they would if they were actually looking, just staring.

“Staring past” he thought.

Her eyes were seeing but they weren’t.

Her eyes were seeing what her mind was, not what was actually there.

He double checked to make sure she wasn’t holding anything.

He started to move again. Slow steps forward.

Her eyes track him but don’t move. They don’t even blink.

When he makes his way a good arm’s length in front of her he stops. 

She moves. Slowly backing herself up further against the corner. Her brows furrow but that’s it.

Her eyes are still locked onto his face.

He keeps his arms up and eposes his wrists showing he’s not holding anything.

“It’s ok, your here Arya. You’re safe here.”

Her hand fans out at her sides like she’s stretching but she doesn’t move her arms. She’s not reaching.

At this he grows more confident.

He gets a little closer until there’s only a little space separating them.

He towers over her like this but she’s still the most dangerous thing in the room.

Her eye’s gaze up at him and this close he can see how fogged over they look. He moves one of his hands slowly. His palm resting against her cheek lightly, fear runs up his spine but he keeps it there. Her already pale skin is cold against the night air coming from the window. The touch causes her to blink for what seems like the first time. 

His chest fills with affection. She’s so small yet so deadly even to herself.

“Look at me.” He asks.

Her pretty grey eyes remain dazed as they look up at him.

He raises his other hand to rest on her cheek.

“Arya please look at me.” He pleads with her.

Her gaze remains but she begins to blink again.

Suddenly he hears their daughter let out a particularly loud snore and his heart sinks.

Arya’s head jerks violently in the direction of the noise.

She won’t hurt the children. He thinks as his hands remain on her face. They weren’t part of her past.

He was and he left, which made their interactions when she was in this state more dangerous.

He gently began moving her head back to facing him.

“It’s ok I’m here, right here”

She followed his voice back to his eyes.

Her face frowns and her eyes blink faster.

He hears and sees her take a deep breath and exhales through her nose.

He sees her eyes adjust with new recognition.

“Gen…dry?”

Her voice comes out rough like it hasn’t been used in months.

He can’t help the slight smile that starts to grow on his face. However it isn’t over yet.

Her hands lift to grasp his wrists tightly.

He winces as her tiny nails dig into his skin but keeps his hands where they are.

“Where? Why are you?” her voice began to rise in volume.

He twits his arm around a bit to wiggle out of her grip. He then puts a finger to his lips and points it to the bed.

Arya looks over and he sees her finally “wake.”

Her eyes widen and her hand loosen and drop to her sides.

“Damnit.” She hisses out.

He knows what she’s about to do and he won’t have it.

He sees it crash down on her face. The upturn of her lip like a snarl, the shaking of her fist.

“No.” he said sternly.

“No?” she glares at him. She’s not angry at him through but herself.

“No. We’re going to bed.” He grabs her hand to lead her.

“Gendry.”

“We’re going to bed.” He places his other hand on her lower back to motion her forward.

She stiffens up planting her feet and he turns to look at her.

As expected he’s met with stormy eyes and the famous Stark scowl. But he’s more stubborn then any Stark can be. And at the moment tired. 

Their silent battle doesn’t last long as for once Arya’s the first to look away.

He guides her to her side of the bed and waits as she crawls under the covers before going to his side.

He sighs as he gets himself comfortable. The spot he once slept was now cold much to his irritation. 

He looks over to her side where she lay with a deep frown on her face. She’s chewing on her lip, a nasty habit whenever she’s deep in thought.

Noticing he’s staring her eyes glance up at him and hold his gaze.

There’s fight there. A need to argue. To talk more. To ask what she did while in that state. 

But he’s tired and cold.

And this talk will happen another day.

His eyes leave hers to look at his daughter as she moves in her sleep, throwing and arm out and bumping against her mother. 

Arya looks down and he sees her body finally relax. Her eye’s softening from their stormy disposition. 

She grabs their daughter’s arm gently and places it back to where it once was.

Arya looks to him again blinking twice before fully placing her head on her pillow. She tucks one arm under her pillow while the other gently pets their daughter’s dark hair.

He knows most would not put up with this. It’s by no means easy and there have been times where it has gone much worse. Times that left scars and cuts, panicked screams. 

Under normal circumstances she would be abandoned or locked away royal titles be damned. 

She is broken in many ways, in mind and soul. By blood she has spilled, by revenge and rage.

A rage inside that seeks out the ones that harmed her and her family.

By names that haunt her and faces in black and white.

But he understands her unlike most. Because he was there, not the whole while but he’s seen the results. He has seen her at her worst, barley resembling the bossy screaming child he once traveled with. Looking more akin to an emotionless tool. A sword in the shape of a person. 

However he has his own rage. And his is legendary throughout Westeros. 

One that will never allow her to be a sword for another ever again.

His eyes grow heavy as tiredness finally sets in. 

He lifts his hand to cover hers where it still lays on their daughter’s hair.

She looks to him and he closes his eyes.

He may not be able to fix her brokenness but he will mend it. Smooth out the edges and burn the dark memories away.

With steel and soot.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Any and all feedback is welcome.


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